


This is Our Time

by Cave_of_the_mounds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Gen, catchy songs, driver picks the music, goonies reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 00:21:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10865163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cave_of_the_mounds/pseuds/Cave_of_the_mounds
Summary: Written for a writing challenge - my prompt was "Major Tom to ground control...come on, it's a classic!"Sam and the reader are working on research, and might be driving Dean crazy with their music choices. It's just some silliness with you and the brothers in the bunker.Also posted to tumblr @butiaintgonnaloveem





	This is Our Time

You stare at your notes, a pleased grin on your face as your head bobs along to The Turtle’s song “Happy Together.” You’ve got it playing on speakers in the library during some down time with Sam. You look over at him, catching his eyes as he gives you a content grin of his own.

In the middle of the next song, Blue Swede’s “Hooked on a Feeling,” you hear frustrated grunts coming from down the hall. You lift your eyes, watching the doorway. The consistent chant of ‘ooga chaka’ echoes on the walls, but you return to your work when the hall remains empty after another minute.

Starship’s “We Built This City” starts next. The small chorus of voices draws out your smile even further. You try to bite it down when you hear boots stomping down the hall. Your eyes flick over to Sam, catching the smirk on his face.

“Told you,” he mutters.

“Whatever, he doesn’t get an opinion,” you say defiantly. Just then, Dean makes his appearance in the doorway. His face screwed up into a glare and fixated on you.

“Hey Dean,” you greet him, sweetly.

He ignores you and walks over to your iPod, pressing the pause button.

“Not cool!” you scold.

“Don’t care,” he mimics.

“Sa-am?!” you whine, looking at him for back-up. He rolls his eyes, making his disinterest in playing referee abundantly clear.

“Dean, you did have a deal,” he says, sounding exasperated.

“Come on. That was before I knew I’d have to listen to all this garbage.” Dean throws his arms out as he pouts.

“Dean,” you gently grab his attention, getting up to head over to the iPod. You scroll for a moment before continuing. “I’m just trying to enjoy myself while we do some work,” you gesture between yourself and Sam.

“Well, what about Sammy? The poor guy’s gotta listen to this crap, too!”

Sam’s mouth opens to speak up, but he’s cut off by the song you played. 

"Love, love will keep us together..."

Sam’s mouth scrunches up to hide a grin as he clears his throat.

“Um, you know, sometimes it’s a nice change of pace.” Dean shifts to glare at him. “And anyway, we take turns.”

You shake your hips to the upbeat piano tune by Captain and Tenille, nodding in agreement. Dean points at you accusatorily, his brows pointed up.

“You know, there’s a reason you lost your music privileges.”

“Come on, Dean, that was hilarious. Even Chuck thought so,” you playfully smack his arm.

He tosses his hands up, “Of course he thought so, but then I had to listen to him singing ‘What if God was One of Us’ for days after you took off!”

You dance around him, dipping your shoulders with the beat, “I can’t help that it was catchy.” 

His eyes follow you, narrowed in a glare.

“Just play something more...neutral?”

You groan and sigh heavily, grabbing his arm to drag him to the music player. “Like what?’ you ask flatly, starting to scroll. You stop on a few different songs, only getting grunts of disapproval in return.

“This one?”

“No.”

You scoff. “What? ‘Major Tom to Ground Control,’” you imitate the gravely tone of David Bowie, but Dean shakes his head. “Oh Come on, it’s a classic?!”

He crosses his arms over his chest, indicating a refusal to budge. You narrow your eyes at him and smile smugly.

“You know what? No. I don’t have to do this. We had a deal. You pick the music when we drive. Your time, up there. Down here, it’s our time. It’s our time down here. That’s all over the second we ride around in Baby’s bucket seats.”

His mouth opens in shock. “Did you? Did she just Goonies me?” He looks around you at Sam for confirmation, but Sam’s head is ducked down as he chuckles at the two of you.

You nod curtly, doing your best Dean impression to end the conversation and go back to select your next song. Within seconds, the simple piano tune starts to play. You spin to face Dean with the start of the lyrics, lip-syncing along with Bonnie Tyler.

‘Turn around, every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you’re never coming round’

Sam’s shoulders bounce with his quiet laughter. You slink you way to Dean, continuing your performance.

‘Turn around, every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears…’

Dean stands stiffly, watching your antics, waiting for you to break, but you’re determined. You push it further, pretending you’re starring in a melodramatic music video - using the bookshelves as props, whipping your head around as you pretend to sing. Dean shakes his head and raises his voice over the music, “God, you’re embarrassing,” he teases. 

‘And I need you now tonight’

You ignore him, singing dramatically into an invisible microphone. You hear his phone ring, but don’t bother dropping character even when he answers and talks over the music.

“Hey buddy...yeah...okay. What? Where?”

He motions in the air for you to write something, but you’re still caught up in the music, climbing onto the table and sinking to your knees getting eye-level with him. You grab his shoulders, throwing your head back as the singer belts out ‘Every now and then I fall apart’. 

He gives up the fight, breaking out in a quick laugh at you.

“Hang on,” he grunts into the phone. He tilts the speaker away from his mouth, a wide, bright smile on his face. His eyes shine with humor as he nods to the table. “Turn around bright eyes, and grab the pen. We got a case.”


End file.
